


All I Ever Need

by alanna_the_lionheart



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Angst, Bloodplay, Bottom Agron, Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Episode: s03e10 Victory, Ficlet, First Time Bottoming, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nagron, Porn, Romance, neck kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alanna_the_lionheart/pseuds/alanna_the_lionheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-“War of the Damned,” coda to “Victory.” Agron and Nasir find comfort in each other’s arms in the wake of Spartacus’ passing. Agron finally comes to terms with what Spartacus was fighting for – what Nasir already knew – and vows to honor his memory. Apologies are given, bonds strengthened, and promises made for the future. Ficlet, first time bottom Agron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Ever Need

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Spartacus fic (I just finished the series a week ago). Not my first explicit fic, but still fairly new at this porn thing. Writing the way they talk on the show was HARD, but kind of fun. As a challenge, I tried to write the whole story in the same way, and I really think it reads and flows better that way. Hopefully I did the show and the pairing justice. Spartacus was such a ride, I shotgunned the whole series in about three weeks. Just started it over again from the beginning yesterday. I clearly have a new obsession and I’m not sorry. :) Enjoy!

**All I Ever Need**

 

In wake of Spartacus’ passing, Agron and Nasir lead the remaining rebels into the mountains. They travel through what remains of day and into night, until battle wounds and weary feet cry out for rest. They set a small camp, and as the women and children huddle close to the center, Agron speaks to Nasir.

 

“Apologies, yet I would be alone with my thoughts for a time. See that the women and children are properly fed?”

 

Nasir smiles, though in his heart he senses that Agron stands troubled. “I will, though you need not ask it of me.”

 

Nasir sets to purpose, building a fire and helping the women cook a portion of what food they have, knowing that come morning sun he will need to hunt for something of more substance. Meanwhile, Agron settles down against an outcropping of rocks, shielded from view of their camp, and builds a solitary fire of his own.

 

Nasir sees the people properly fed, pouring bowls of stew for himself and Agron last. Sitting by the fire with the women and children, Nasir finds that he cannot eat. Though he will not admit it, Agron’s silence and solitude worries him.

 

He sits at the fireside, food untouched, until he can no longer bear it. He approaches the woman serving as their medicus and asks for bandages and salve for Agron’s hands. After the long hard battle of morning past, Nasir knows his lover’s hands are in sore need of healing and gentle touch. With supplies under his arm and a bowl of stew in each hand, he makes way toward Agron.

 

The sight that greets him causes his heart to seize within his chest.

 

“Agron. Your hands.” The words leave his mouth in a gasp, barely louder than a whisper.

 

Agron starts slightly in surprise at interruption of solitude, but when his eyes meet Nasir’s, he shrugs.

 

“It is of no concern.”

 

“No concern?” Nasir asks in astonishment. Agron has taken the bandages off his hands, and his palms bleed heavily onto the ground. His wounds sit reopened; whether from stress of battle or unconscious fretting by Agron himself, Nasir stands unsure. He sets down the bowls of stew and supplies and kneels in front of Agron. He reaches out and gently grasps the man’s wrists in his hands, gazing at his lover’s palms with no small level of concern.

 

Agron shrugs once more.

 

“It does not hurt.”

 

Nasir shakes his head, tears rising in his eyes at the look in Agron’s own. It is a look that speaks volumes. Agron _is_ in pain, no matter how he tries to deny it. But the pain, it seems, is not a physical one.

 

Without another word, without asking permission, Nasir sets to rebandaging Agron’s hands. He uses water to wash off blood, needle and thread to restitch wounds, salve to calm pain, and fresh bandages to finish. He works in silence, and Agron watches him in similar manner.

 

When he is done, Nasir remains on his knees. He stares at Agron’s palms, rubbing gentle, soothing circles on his wrists, the backs and sides of his hands, and on his fingers. Agron sighs, and the sound is enough to pull Nasir from reverie of giving quiet comfort.

 

“It is more than mere wound that upsets you,” Nasir whispers, looking up into Agron’s eyes and feeling his heart clench at the look of loss he finds in their depths. “Break words. Share grief, and see one who loves you help bear its burden.”

 

Agron holds his gaze, opens his mouth as if to speak, then shuts it again with a shake of his head. He looks down at his hands, and his eyes fall on their intertwined fingers. Nasir holds the tips of Agron’s fingers loosely in his own. Agron tightens the grip as much as the pain in his hands will allow, and Nasir smiles softly as he grasps them back with equal strength. It’s a gesture they invented the night the gods returned Agron to Nasir’s arms; the night Nasir lovingly tended Agron’s wounds, both physical and emotional. It’s a gesture that allows Agron to touch Nasir with little pain. Agron trusts that Nasir will hold him tight, but no tighter than he can handle. It’s an intimate gesture, one borne of trust and love.

 

And it is just what Agron needs to open up his heart to Nasir.

 

Except when he opens mouth to speak, he only has strength to mutter one word before tears long held back overflow.

 

“Spartacus.”

 

Yet it’s all Nasir needs to hear, and everything he already suspected. He lets go of Agron’s hands and grasps his face instead, rubbing soothing circles along cheeks and lips. They settle on the back of his head, run through his hair gently. Agron’s breath hitches in his chest, and he reaches up with his own hands, runs his fingertips clumsily over Nasir’s face, and holds on as tight as he dares. A quiet sob escapes Agron, and he kisses Nasir’s forehead gently, a mirror of the gesture performed mere hours ago for a fallen brother. Nasir reaches around and pulls Agron to him, and as Agron rests his head on Nasir’s shoulder, Nasir feels the burn of hot tears on his flesh.

 

Nasir stays his own grief and holds on tightly as Agron lets go.

 

In time, sobs and trembling give way to calmer breathing, and when Agron pulls back and makes attempt to brush away tears, Nasir grabs his wrists gently and pulls his hands aside. Grasping Agron’s face, Nasir kisses the tears away, and Agron wraps his arms around Nasir and holds him as close as he can with hands that will never again pick up sword.

 

When nothing but the memory of tears graces Agron’s face, Nasir pulls away.

 

“Gratitude,” Agron whispers, voice harsh from crying.

 

“Seeing ease to your suffering is gratitude enough,” Nasir replies with a smile. “I would give more relief in the sharing of words, if you desire it.”

 

Agron nods. “We have time enough now for much; it is merely one of many debts we owe to Spartacus.”

 

Thus Agron and Nasir pile up their mats against the rocks, stew cold and forgotten next to them, and once Nasir finds himself wrapped close in Agron’s embrace, they mourn the loss of Spartacus together.

 

They discuss much. Agron speaks of how he grew to respect the man. Of how close Spartacus held his friendship and council when he feared Crixus finally turned from him for good. Of how much closer Agron grew to Spartacus when he foolishly thought that Nasir had eyes for another man. Of how Spartacus offered patient ear and words of comfort in time of doubt.

 

Agron talks of how he misses Spartacus already. How he misses his leadership, his guidance and friendship, their mutual trust. Before the end, he and Spartacus stood the only remaining survivors of Batiatus’ ludus.

 

“I loved Spartacus as a brother. Now our bond lies forever severed by the Roman shits who have already taken so much from me. Not just use of hands, but countless brothers, all lost to their greed and ignorance. He was torn from this world too soon, and too harshly. It seems unjust: great men such as Spartacus must fall to the Romans, yet men such as me, broken men, are allowed to live on.”

 

Agron gazes down at his hands, and Nasir feels a wave of anger swell in his chest such as he has not felt since he first laid eyes on what Julius Caesar did to Agron with cruelty of the cross.

 

Nasir reaches up and cradles Agron’s head in his hands. “You are _not_ broken, Agron.” He soothes his hands over Agron’s cheeks, runs his fingertips through his hair, just as he knows he likes, and kisses him gently. “I would see loving hands restore what you have lost in time. If you would have me.”

 

Agron smiles at him: the first smile Nasir has seen since before final battle. “I would have no other. In fact, I would have you make promise as such.”

 

Nasir smiles back and kisses him again, yet more fiercely. Only Agron pulls away this time, and the look in his eyes causes Nasir to frown. A fire burns in their depths, a fire of desire and need… and a look of pure fear such as Nasir has never seen.

 

“Ask for what you desire, and I would see promise fulfilled….” Nasir strokes his hand gently across Agron’s brow. “And look of fear never again haunt the eyes of one I hold dear.”

 

Agron smiles gratefully at him, tears rising unbidden in his eyes once more. “Everyone I’ve ever cared for has left me. Mother, father. Duro. Men I called brother. Gods help me, I even miss the fucking Gaul. And now Spartacus has been taken. My heart aches with the loss of so many.” A tear falls slowly down Agron’s cheek, and Nasir reaches up to brush it away, but Agron grabs his hand in both of his own. “You must not leave me, as well. I could not bear it.”

 

“Your hands,” Nasir whispers in concern, noting how tightly Agron holds on. He feels the tremble in Agron’s hands, feels it mount until Agron’s whole body trembles next to him.

 

Agron presses on, blinded to pain by his desire to see promise made.

 

“I was wrong to push you away. And for what? Revenge? For blood and death? Spartacus was right in this from the start, and I was but a fool, blinded by need for vengeance. Blind to what was right in front of me. I believed for so long that the only life I could have, the only one I deserved, was that of gladiator, of warrior. Only now do I see how wrong I was.”

 

“Agron-”

 

“I was a fool,” Agron repeats around a sob, and he leans in and kisses Nasir hungrily, as though he wants to mold them together, make them one for all eternity. He pulls away only to find breath to continue his plea, speaking quickly, as though he fears Nasir will vanish in puff of smoke before he has chance to finish. “I realize now that _this_ is what Spartacus was fighting for. _This_ is what Spartacus desired; what he _died_ for. So that we could be free _to live_. _This_ is the life Spartacus believed I could have; the life he believed we all deserve. The gods truly blessed me the day they found me to Batiatus’ ludus; the day they found me to Spartacus.”

 

Agron finally pauses to catch his breath, and Nasir smiles fondly at him.

 

“You are not the only man who owes his life to Spartacus. I am forever in Spartacus’ debt for bringing _you_ into my arms. You saved my life the day you fought your way into my ludus and stole my heart.”

 

“I saved _your_ life?” Agron asks with a grin. “And all this time I thought it _you_ who saved mine.”

 

“We saved _each other_ ,” Nasir corrects. When he steals a gentle kiss, Agron deepens it, and Nasir is forced to swallow down a groan of pleasure when his bottom lip finds itself between Agron’s teeth. Forcing himself to pull away, Nasir gasps, “It is a debt among many that we owe to Spartacus.”

 

Agron’s lips finds their way to Nasir’s neck, and Nasir cannot stop a moan from escaping him this time. Agron wraps his arms tighter around him, caresses his lower back gently with his fingertips. When Agron finally pulls away, he’s breathing heavily, and they both feel the weight of the other’s desire pressed against them.

 

“I left shield behind at Spartacus’ grave for a purpose. To leave behind the only life I thought I could have, and begin a new one… _with you._ Spartacus has given us chance to live, and I intend to honor memory by living as much as I can, with you always at my side.” Agron kisses him again, tender this time. “Apologies for ever leaving you. I would not be parted from you again. Not ever.”

 

“Nor I from you.”

 

“Swear it,” Agron whispers, and the fire in Agron’s eyes threatens to consume Nasir yet again. _This_ is the promise he seeks: that Nasir would not leave his side. In truth, it is a promise Nasir has already made to himself. Yet it is one that Agron needs to hear, and so Nasir makes it without hesitation, or doubt, or question.

 

“I swear it on the gods themselves. On my own life, and on Spartacus’ memory. I will never leave you, Agron. The gods would more easily rip themselves from the heavens than tear me from your side.”

 

It is all Agron needs to hear. With a whisper of Nasir’s name Agron crashes their lips together.

 

Time seems to speed up and yet stand still all at once. Nasir finds himself kneeling between Agron’s thighs, cock pressed against Agron’s own. With rocks hiding them from view of camp, they undress. Nasir removes Agron’s armor first. When Agron makes attempt at Nasir’s, cursing the gods at the trembling in his hands and the useless fumbling of his fingers, Nasir helps him. He guides Agron’s hands, helps with the finer clasps and buckles. Agron glides his fingers over Nasir’s body, and when tears of frustration spring to Agron’s eyes because he finds himself too broken to touch Nasir as he would like, Nasir kisses them away once more with whispers of “you are not broken” and “it matters not” and “to have you in my arms is blessing enough.”

 

Hesitant, gentle touches give way to fumbling and grasping; heavy breathing gives way to pants and moans of desire. Nasir touches Agron’s face in the way he knows will drive him crazy, and with a groan Agron bites and pulls Nasir’s fingers into his mouth, sucking on them greedily. The motion draws a hiss of pleasure from Nasir, desire and anticipation causing his body to quake. He pulls his fingers from Agron’s mouth and moves his hand down to prepare himself.

 

The feel of Agron’s fingers on his wrist gives him pause.

 

“No, not tonight,” Agron whispers. “Tonight I would have you inside me.”

 

Nasir’s heart leaps in his chest with a strange mixture of love, surprise, and lust.

 

“Agron….”

 

Agron has mentioned time and again that, while Nasir is “the only one my heart has ever beat for,” he has been with other men…yet he has never been taken by one himself.  This is something they have never done together; that Agron has never done at all. It is a desire Nasir has long had, yet a desire he has never given voice to. Agron has always been the one to take Nasir; their relationship has always been as such, and Nasir has never felt need to question it.

 

“I want you, Nasir. I need you. Please.”

 

The plea comes with deep, breathy voice; comes with eyes near black with desire and longing and need for something more than physical pleasure. Nasir wants nothing more than to grant request, but he is not so far gone to lust that reason does not hold some degree of sway, and with a groan of frustration he gives voice to concern.

 

“Agron…for your first time…I would not take you with spit alone. I would not hurt you.”

 

Agron smiles. “Look through the bag by your side.”

 

Nasir reaches over with a frown, shuffles through the blankets and armor thrown carelessly aside, and finally finds the bag. Within its depths, Nasir’s hands fall on familiar form, and he grins wickedly as he pulls out a bottle of oil.

 

“And how did _this_ find its way into our possession?” he asks slyly.

 

“Secreted amongst Laeta’s belongings,” Agron replies, wicked glint in his eye to rival Nasir’s own.

 

The thought gives Nasir a moment’s pause as full weight of implication hits him.

 

“You had hope we yet might live to see battle’s end?”

 

Agron pauses, and eyes dark with lust suddenly find themselves clouded instead with onslaught of painful memories.

 

“Dim hope, perhaps. Nothing more. In truth it was faith in Spartacus that I had; that I’ve _always_ had. I always thought…if any man would make it out of final battle alive…it would be him. He….” Tears rise in Agron’s eyes once more, and a sob chokes past his lips unbidden. “Apologies,” Agron whispers, attempting to quell the sadness rising in him.

 

But then Nasir’s lips are on his once again, and feelings of pain and sadness are pushed aside in favor of desire.

 

“Do not apologize for your suffering, Agron. I will have none of it. What I _will_ have is chance to help you deal with grief. Chance to remind you there is one still breathing who holds your heart as more precious than anything. One who still loves you, and would see pain diminished, if only for a moment. If you yet desire it.” Nasir whispers the last and gently teases his fingers at Agron’s entrance, and the breathy moan that escapes the larger man seems answer enough.

 

“I desire you _always_ , Nasir. You…and only you. For as long as I draw breath.”

 

“And I you,” Nasir replies with a smile, opening the bottle of oil. He drizzles an amount on his fingers and places his hand gently on Agron’s ass. “I would not hurt you. Make promise that you will stop me if it becomes too much.”

 

“I trust you,” Agron whispers, and Nasir takes that as permission. He enters him slowly with one finger, working it in him gently. Agron gasps at the pressure. It’s uncomfortable, but not entirely unenjoyable. Agron nods, and his breathing picks up as Nasir thrusts another finger inside of him.

 

The feel of his lover touching him so intimately wakes a desire in Agron to touch back. He reaches up with his hand and gently runs his fingertips through Nasir’s hair. It is a testament to how much he wants him: he pushes past the pain in his hands, sweat breaking over his face with effort, but he does not stop until he’s had his fill of touch. Fingertips slide over Nasir’s head, his cheeks, his lips. They caress his neck, and Agron grows harder, watching as Nasir begins to tremble with desire. Agron has always been fascinated by Nasir’s neck, knowing how much it drives the man crazy to be touched there. Agron tightens his fingers at the back of his neck, wanting to bring Nasir closer, and the motion sends pain shooting through his palms, muscles still sensitive and raw, and Agron groans in pain and curses.

 

Nasir stops his fingers and frowns in concern. “Is it too much?”

 

Agron shakes his head, tries to will the tears of pain to leave his eyes, but fails. “It is not you. It is these worthless hands. Hands that can no longer feel as they should, as they want to. That can no longer give pleasure to the one I desire.”

 

Nasir shifts slightly, moves Agron’s legs over his hips so he can lean in closer. “They are not the only part of you that can give one pleasure.” Nasir kisses him hungrily, bites his lower lip between his teeth as Agron loves to do with him, and Agron moans, sending enticing vibrations through Nasir’s lips and causing his whole body to tremble with it. Agron pulls away and sets his lips to Nasir’s neck, biting and sucking and caressing the skin there. Nasir’s breathing picks up as he slips a third finger into Agron, causing Agron to bite down hard on Nasir’s throat, drawing blood. Nasir hisses in pleasure, and as Agron sucks on the wound, caressing it with his tongue, Nasir finds that he has to still his movements, or else this will all be over far too quickly.

 

Agron breathes heavily into Nasir’s neck, movement stilled for similar reasons. They hold each other, Nasir with a hand on Agron’s shoulder and one on his ass; Agron with arms wrapped tightly around Nasir, his fingers gently caressing his shoulders as he grows accustomed to the feel of Nasir’s fingers inside of him.

 

“I have always wondered,” Agron pants, attempting to get his breathing under control, “why you so enjoy the feel of my lips on your neck.”

 

Nasir smiles, and he pulls away from Agron so that he can look him in the eyes.

 

“For so long, the only weight upon my neck was that of fucking collar. The only thing I felt was its choking hold, reminding me that I was no more than property, belonging to one man, whether I desired him or not. But no longer. I did not see it at first, but the day Spartacus tore off my collar was the first day I was ever truly blessed by the gods. I owe Spartacus much, but above all else I owe him for bringing _you_ into my life. My neck no longer feels weight of collar, and only ever feels depth of your love for me. I belong to _you_ now, Agron, and it is not because I must, but because I have freedom to choose…and I choose _you._ ”

 

Tears of pain in Agron’s eyes give way to tears of love, and he feels them spill over his cheeks. “I belong to you as well. I would not choose another. Only the gods themselves could part us now, and I would give them fucking fight if they tried.”

 

Nasir feels tears of his own fall down his cheeks, and he leans down and kisses Agron again, gentle this time.

 

“The gods cannot have us. Not now. Not for a long time. It is as you have said. Spartacus has given us chance to live, and I intend to honor memory.”

 

Nasir thrusts his fingers deeper inside without warning, and Agron gasps in surprise. But it is not long before surprise gives way to desire, and Agron moans in pleasure, eyes dark with lust. He loses himself in exquisite feeling, and when Nasir hooks a finger just so, hitting a sweet spot in Agron that has his body trembling and his vision blurring at the edges, Agron groans out a harsh “please.”

 

Nasir stops his fingers, his own eyes dark with desire and his body quaking with need and want and tense from the willpower it has taken him to hold back.

 

“Please,” Agron begs again, and it’s all Nasir needs to hear. He pulls out gently, slicks his cock with the extra oil from his fingers and his own precome. He pulls Agron’s legs tighter around his hips, and Agron shifts his body slightly to give Nasir better angle.

 

Without another word, Nasir gently pushes the head of his cock into Agron’s ass, and the feeling is unlike anything either of them has ever felt. While it is truly Agron’s first time, to Nasir it feels like the first time all over again, because it is the first time he’s ever been inside a man he has chosen for himself.

 

Nasir pushes himself in slowly at first, not wanting to cause pain. Without warning, Agron puts his hands on Nasir’s lower back, palming his ass firmly while forcing him forward roughly, and though the movement causes pain to shoot through his palms, he is so lost in the feeling of being filled and held that he barely notices. Nasir pants as he finds himself fully sheathed inside Agron, balls resting against his ass, and both men take a moment to gather themselves, lest things end too quickly.

 

Yet it’s not long before Nasir pulls out and thrusts back in, and Agron moans and wraps his legs tighter around Nasir. The strength of the larger man’s thighs around his body is intense, bordering close enough on pain that it only causes more intense pleasure, and Nasir is certain he will find bruises later. Nasir settles his hands on Agron’s shoulders, forces himself higher onto his knees for better purchase, and thrusts in again.

 

Wordlessly, they find a rhythm. Nasir finds his hands wandering to Agron’s face, caressing his forehead, his eyes, cheeks, and lips, all of his favorite parts. At a plea from Agron, Nasir pushes harder and faster, and Agron buries his face in Nasir’s neck with a whine.

 

Nasir is close, can feel the pressure building in his gut, but he doesn’t want to go over that edge without Agron beside him. He grabs Agron’s head with both hands, pushing him away so he can look into his eyes. The depth of love and desire he finds there is nearly enough to send him over. Leaving a hand on Agron’s face, he kisses him fiercely and reaches down with his other hand, slick from before, and pulls slowly on Agron’s cock.

 

The motion causes Agron to jerk away, head thrown back as a shout escapes his lips.

 

“Nasir.” Despite harsh breathing, he says his name reverently, and he reaches up with one hand and runs his fingertips through Nasir’s hair, gently grasping the nape of his neck. He buries his face once more in Nasir’s neck as his other hand reaches out blindly. Nasir removes hand from his lover’s face, and he takes Agron’s hand in the only way he knows that will not cause him pain. Nasir twines their fingertips together, and a quiet sob escapes Agron’s mouth. Agron grasps Nasir’s fingers as tightly as he can with his own, and Nasir grasps his back in kind.

“Nasir,” Agron moans desperately, and Nasir shudders as he pushes into him once more. “I was fool to ever leave you.”

 

Nasir shakes his head, pulling on Agron’s cock possessively. “And I was fool to ever let you.”

 

Agron sobs into Nasir’s shoulder and grips his fingers tighter, pushing past the pain in his hand. “Promise me again. Promise me…that you will never leave me, as I once left you.”

 

“Agron, Agron. Agron.” He thrusts harder and faster with each call of his lover’s name, desperate to meet him in completion. “The gods themselves could not wrest me from your arms.”

 

With a final pull, Agron comes apart in his arms, spilling between them, fingers grasping greedily at Nasir’s. Hearing his name moaned from Agron’s lips sends Nasir over the edge with him, and he spills inside him with a hiss.

 

They tremble in each other’s arms, panting heavily. Nasir thrusts into Agron in tiny pulses as he comes, stroking Agron through his own orgasm, wishing to prolong the moment forever.

 

When they finally come down, Nasir pulls out of Agron slowly, smiling deviously when Agron whines at the loss of contact.

 

Agron pulls his legs from around Nasir’s hips, and Nasir hisses; he can already feel the bruises forming from Agron’s strong grip. Agron lies back on the mat, dragging Nasir down with him. Nasir reaches aside and pulls a blanket over them, settling down next to Agron, resting his head on his chest. Agron wraps an arm around Nasir tightly, resting his palm on Nasir hip, gently caressing the spot he knows must feel sore.

 

With a sigh and a smile, Agron lifts their still intertwined hands and places them over his heart. They fall asleep minutes later, fingers still wrapped together in loving embrace.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Nasir wakes in the middle of the night to screams and sobs and the feel of his lover’s body trembling and quaking beneath him. He wakes to the sound of Agron calling for Spartacus: a brother ripped too harshly from the world, torn too soon in the wake of countless other brothers and one brother born of same blood, whose passing has caused similar nightmares in times past.

 

Nasir soothes him with calming words and gentle touch, whispers of “I am here” and “Do not be afraid” and “The burden of loss with never fade, but know that I will always be here to help ease pain.”

 

Agron grasps his fingers so tightly that his wounds bleed through their bandages, and he whispers Nasir’s name over and over and says, “ _You_ are all I ever need.”

 

_…the end…_

**Author's Note:**

> I took a few liberties with Agron’s backstory. First, since (as far as I know) we don’t know what happened to Agron’s parents, I assumed them to be dead for the purpose of the story. Since Agron never talks about them, I figure this is a fairly safe bet. Second, I took liberties with the idea that, while Agron was not a virgin before Nasir, he had never been taken by another man. This is just my headcanon for Agron’s sexual history.


End file.
